The Way Things Might Have Been
by PhantomAnglelLover
Summary: A few months after Christine leaves the Phantom, her wedding to Raoul approaches and she decides she needs to know what her heart truly feels. Mostly musical based. My first fanfiction ever. T for now, though may be M later. **Expanded/Edited chapter 2 posted**
1. Silent and Resigned

Silent and Resigned

December, 1871

The morning is dark and dreary; the sun has risen but the winter fog diffuses the light to make the world a dismal gray. Even the snow-covered ground does not look quite white, but a depressing ice-blue. A dark figure wanders through the winter fog. The slim form, normally so graceful, moves slowly and heavily as though carrying a massive burden.

_"Again. Here I am again. How can it be?" _she thinks as her delicate feet crunch the frozen ground below. _"Wasn't I just here? Well, not this exact place, but it feels exactly the same. Why do these places all feel exactly the same? No. This one is worse. This time is worse," _she thinks as she approaches the rows of crosses.

_"Why must I always say good-bye to the men I love?" _She secretly hopes there has been some mistake. She won't find his name here. It's not here because he's not dead. But as she steps closer, she can read the name clearly even as tears fill her eyes. When she reaches out and her fingers lightly touch the engraved name, reality crushes her. The tears spill over and she collapses to the ground with a great sob of grief.

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**This is my first fanfiction ever. So, reviews are HIGHLY appreciated. I'm begging you for your thoughts!**


	2. Trying to Put Your from My Mi

Trying to Put You from My Mind

August, 1871

Christine lay wide-eyed in bed. She looked at the ornate clock across the room. Illuminated by the moonlight streaming in her window, it read 4:00 A.M. She sighed and tried to re-arrange herself amongst the plush pillows and covers. Though exhausted, she had once again been unable sleep. This insomnia had become increasingly frequent over the past several weeks. Her stomach was constantly in knots. She was plagued by the feeling that something is wrong. Or something is missing. Or she had forgotten something terribly important. She simply could not put her finger on it, _"I'm going mad!" _she thought.

She sometimes tried to express her discomfort to Raoul or his gracious mother, but they both told her time and again that it was just wedding nerves. _"But why should I be nervous or stressed about the wedding? I'm hardly doing anything to plan it! The Countess is making sure everything is perfect. She has everything delegated to an army of servants and merchants. And money is obviously no problem. What do I have to worry about except marrying the right man?" _ That thought made her stomach drop and her heart tighten.

_"He's NOT the right man," _a small voice whispered to her.

_"That's ridiculous. I've known Raoul for years." _

_ "No. You knew him as a child. You hadn't seen him in years when he proposed marriage," _that nagging voice said to her again.

_"That may be. But he's sweet to me. He loves me. He is good man. He can take care of me." _

_ "Is that all? What about how you feel?" _

_ "Of course I love him! What's not to love? He's good. He's kind. I care for him."_

_ "That may be true of a brother or a friend. What about passion?"_

_ "Stop! I've made a good match! Papa would be happy for me. Just because I don't passionately love him now, doesn't mean I never will. Love grows. Is there a wrong way to feel before marriage? As long as there is respect and friendship, what can go wrong? What else is there?"_

_ "You've felt it before."_

"Yes. I did," she whispered, and instantly her mind was filled with the music of the night. Her Angel of Music sang it to her. She closed her eyes and breathed deeply as she remembered his seductive voice. Her heart pounded as she re-lived the brief moments they had touched. When his hand took hers for the first time, gently leading her down to his world, she had been transfixed. Oh, and what desire had filled her as he sang to her! She could still feel his hands on her waist, caressing her as he moved to take her hand. An almost inappropriate gesture, but not quite. Then she remembered the next morning when he cursed, shouted, and flung her to the ground. She was snapped out of her reverie. "No!" she yelled as she sat up in bed. Her mind spun still with more memories. That last night when they sang his composition to each other, she had just been playing along to capture him until...at some point she had lost herself to the music. Or was it the role? Or was it to _him_? "I don't know what I felt!" She screamed in frustration and put her head in her hands, resting it on her raised knees.

She cried quietly as she tried to sort through those months after the gala. She had loved her Angel of Music. When she found she could touch him, she was shocked and pleased. And loved him even more. Then she had seen his face and his temper in that dark place, so she hated the demon. But Raoul was there to comfort her and whisk her away. As she continued to think carefully through those months, she realized she had never been alone to sort her thoughts and feelings for herself. Someone was always there filling her mind with their own opinions. Her Angel, Raoul, Madame Giry, or Meg were always at her side to guide her. Granted, they were well-intentioned, but how could she have gone so long without thinking this through?! She was half-inclined to think the instant her Angel had given her the ultimatum-Raoul's death or life with him-was when she thought the most clearly. But then she had left with Raoul; she had been in his house and in his company ever since.

_ "I must stop this madness. I must get away. But how will I ever ask Raoul? His family has been so gracious in letting me stay until the wedding. How can I tell him I need to leave without alarming him? I don't want to seem ungrateful. Or that I plan on canceling the wedding."_

"What am I going to do?" she prayed aloud to a God she hoped was listening.

* * *

Raoul was sitting at the end of dining table reading the morning newspaper so intently that he did not see or hear her approach. A servant pulled out her chair and she sat down across from him. "Good morning," she said as cheerfully as she could.

He dropped the paper then and smiled brightly at her, "Good morning. How did you sleep?" he asked as he folded the paper and set it aside.

Christine considered lying, but instead decided on the truth, "Not well." Alright, a euphemistic phrase for the night she had, but still the truth. Raoul assumed the cause anyway.

"Again? Christine, you must not worry so! What can we do to ease your mind?" he asked, half-amused and half-worried.

_"A perfect opportunity," _she thought. _"Now is the time to ask. Don't hesitate."_

"If I could have some time away to clear my mind, perhaps that would help," she timidly offered.

"Of course! How much time? Away where?" Raoul encouraged, still with concern in his voice.

"I was thinking of the seaside. Maybe for a week. Maybe more. I would very much like to see Perros again."

"Perfect! I would love to visit again as well! I will arrange our travel after breakfast. Be sure to pack plenty of scarves, for I may not run into the sea for you this time," he said teasingly.

"No, Raoul." He looked at her, confused. Christine lowered her eyes and whispered to the table, "I mean to go alone. If I'm truly going to clear my head, I must do it alone."

Raoul sighed and leaned forward, taking her hand. "Is this about your father? I know he must be on your mind with the wedding approaching. I wish he could be with us also. If that's the case, I understand. If it's something else..." He paused for a moment, and Christine could feel the phantom of the his thoughts hanging in the air between them. She knew who he was thinking about; he need not continue, but he did, "Is this something I should be worried about? You will come back?"

Christine would by lying if she said this need to escape was not at least partially about _him. _But she still intended on marrying Raoul. So she replied without hesitation, "Yes, Raoul. I will be back. You need not worry." She tried to add emphasis with a closed-lipped smile.

Raoul was not assured. He looked at her face, and when he saw her brows creased with stress, darkness circling her eyes, and unhappiness dulling her usually bright eyes, he could do nothing but comply. "Then go," he said through his closing throat. "I'll make the arrangements for you to leave today."

Christine's wide smile lit up her eyes, "Thank you, Raoul!" She ran upstairs to begin packing without eating breakfast. While Christine was now full of excitement, a dark cloud now of anxiety now settled over Raoul.

* * *

"Erik, must you do that?" the Persian asked as he entered the lavish sitting room. Erik had once again been playing the piano to ease his mind, but ended up pounding it so loudly it was painful and discordant. "If not for the sake of my sanity, then for the sake of my poor piano. You _will_ break it someday." Erik's song ended and his head hung low, but his fingers still rested on the keys. Nadir wasn't sure if he had heard or simply did not wish to reply. "It will get better, Erik. You must trust that. Just give it time."

He did reply quietly then, though he did not raise his head, "And in that time, I need to do as I feel. If you cannot tolerate my playing, I will leave. Music is all I have left."

Nadir sighed sadly and carefully said what he had been wanting to for the last few months, "Are you sure that is wise?" Erik raised his head to look at him in confusion. "Music. Isn't it irrevocably connected with Christine? Isn't it true that you cannot play or compose without thinking of her?"

"Yes..." Erik replied, implying he still didn't see Nadir's point.

"How can you heal if that is the case?"

Erik stood then, crossing the large sitting room as he bellowed, "You want me to _forget_ her then?! You suggest that is even _possible_?!" He was now close enough to strangle Nadir if he wished. And from the look in his eyes, Nadir was quite sure he was considering it.

"I want you to move on, my friend. You are immensely talented and may find diversion, even pleasure, in something else." Erik's body released some of the tension, so he did not quite look so much like a lion ready to pounce. He turned and sat in a high-backed chair by the fireplace.

"Like what? What could possibly be so consuming as to distract me from her?" he said, staring into the fire.

Nadir took the other seat, "Perhaps art. Or architecture. You might even make an _honest_ living in one of those fields."

"Perhaps."

"Well, I can make inquiries about a wanted artist or architect. Shall I?" Erik gave a small nod of acknowledgement. They sat in silence for several minutes before Erik stated, "I know I cannot have her, Daroga. I have already given up the right or even the chance. But I cannot simply let her go. Don't ask it of me. If I harm your instrument, I will purchase another."

Though probably not the healthiest form of healing, the Daroga hoped he could find a new obsession for Erik that would distract from his old one.

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**Review, please! I'll bake cookies for you. And have Erik deliver them. **

**Also, I am looking for a beta. Message me if you're interested. Or know how I might go about finding one.**


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